


A New Day of Devotion

by Ayami (Syrica)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth isn’t exactly ‘experienced’ in relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Seteth is being angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrica/pseuds/Ayami
Summary: Seteth has endured the Day of Devotion alone for years, and that would make anyone jaded about the whole event. But now that he has Byleth... things are different.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	A New Day of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha this was supposed to go up last Valentine’s Day 😅

Seteth woke up groggy early in the morning. The sun had not so much as grazed the horizon yet and all was quiet and dark. What had awoken the advisor at such an ungodly hour was a heavy sick in his stomach, a pit of anxiety aimed at nothing and everything at once.

He rolled over in bed to see Byleth fast asleep, unaware of his disturbance. While ordinarily seeing her so peaceful would inspire peace in him as well, this day it gained him nothing.

He laid in bed for a few labored moments and attempted to control his breathing, thinking of things that often gave him a smile: his daughter and wife, a good home cooked meal, a lakeside sunset with sturdy fishing poles beside him… it was of little use. His heart rate continued to pound its pace uncomfortably, the weight in his stomach felt as if it were actively rotting, and he felt a general sense of dread.

The feeing was _familiar…_ but still unnamed.

He sighed into the open air of their bedroom- before he quickly covered mouth and looked over at his wife, scanning her face in the dark for any sign he had disturbed her slumber. When it was clear he had not, he slowly and carefully lifted his bedsheets off of his body and lowered himself out of the bed as cautiously as possible.

He was going for a walk. Perhaps the air would help him calm himself- or perhaps he would end up in front of his office after convincing himself this was his subconscious’ way of alerting him he had forgotten something important… great.

Seteth pushed the door to his office open and unsurprisingly, a stack of unfinished paperwork on his desk sat just as he had left it the day before. He would have finished it, were it not for his dearest who all but _carried_ him back to their room once she had deemed it the appropriate time to turn in. Though, he supposed in today’s case, he would’ve gotten the same amount of sleep either way.

His eyes had adjusted quickly to the darkness of his office and he rummaged around his desk drawer for a candle and a match with little hurdle. The candle illuminated his workstation, allowing him to leaf through his residual work, silently praying to the goddess that he could at the very least distract himself from the gnawing in his gut.

One type of document caught his eye in particular:

_Carnival permit and Day of Devotion booth assignments_

He gritted his teeth so hard they slid against each other, sharply angling his jaw in a way that hurt his entire face. “ _Goddess_. Good _goddess_ above, _why!_?” His hand snapped to cradle the side of his poor jaw and cursed in whispers.

So that is what it is that made him sick: The Day of Devotion. The flip in his stomach made him sure of it.

Gritting his teeth- less forcefully this time- he swallowed the bile in his throat and scribbled his signature on all of the papers that required it by morning, including the last minute permits for Day of Devotion booths.

***

Something wasn’t right with Seteth. He was… irritable. More than usual. Not that Byleth had even _seen_ him that morning, she’d awoken to an empty bed. But she still knew something had undoubtedly soured his mood. When Byleth saw him later in the day across the courtyard, he wore a deep-set frown on his face and most passers-by made concerted efforts to weave the long way around him, or if they _had_ to cross his path, left at least a wyvern’s tail between them.

Before she could reach him to ask his matter, he was gone. He seemed to be in a hurry and when he turned a corner… he’d disappeared.

Striding down the length of the monastery, Byleth _aimed_ to get to the bottom of this, but her singular focus was slowly but surely siphoned away by the subtle change in scenery that caught her eye: Floral decorations were draped across the hand bars of the gazebo, just as they were strung between the rows of trees. As she continued farther along, a few new pots of flowers had seemingly appeared in the halls over night- soft pale colors, primarily, with the occasional accent of stronger colors here and there. The marketplace, while usually quite busy, was audible from far, more than on a normal day. She could make out noises even as she neared the opposite side of the grounds.

_Is there some sort of occasion I’m forgetting?_

The recollection of a name, a flowered holiday mid-Pegasus Moon sat on her tongue, just out of reach. A blurry but still warm memory of her father holding her hand on a sleepy, otherwise uneventful afternoon as he indelicately picked a small bunch of wildflowers.

_“These were your mother’s favorites, did you know that?” His voice was warm with a mix of an emotion she could not quite grasp, and it seemed to come from all directions at once._

_Byleth couldn’t remember the exact expression on Jeralt’s face, but_ did _she remember the way he turned the flower in his hand, bending the stem so that he could more easily weave it with another. To her 8-year-old mind, it was like magic how the flowers stayed together without anything to stick them together._

 _While her already large eyes widened in astonishment at him, her father continued to speak, “I would look for them whenever I was coming back home from a job. They_ are _pretty but I always thought that…” he tucked one of the smaller flowers behind her ear as he spoke, smiling just a little bit sadly, “the smile on her face when she saw them was even more beautiful than the flowers themselves.”_

_It had’t taken many flowers or much time to make a crown big enough for her small head, and when he finished he gestured for her to lower her head a bit._

_“As much as I wish she could be here with us on this day, that’s not possible. The best I can do for you now is this.” He delicately placed the crown on her head, pressing down into her hair, just a little to keep it in firmly place, “Happy Day of Devotion, kiddo. I know I don’t always say it as often as I should, but I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”_

The sudden recollection surprised her- Byleth hadn’t thought about that day in what must have been _years_. But perhaps more importantly, it shed light on the piece of the puzzle she was missing: It was the Day of Devotion.

How could she have forgotten? Had she been so caught up in work that she hadn’t even glanced at a calendar lately? Surly she or Seteth would have had to have signed off on the decorations at least-

 _Seteth_. An unpleasant feeling creeped down her spine and took hold in her gut as her realization gave way to another: was Seteth upset with _her_? It was the first Day of Devotion to occur while they were officially together and unconcerned with war, and his wife hadn’t so much as acknowledged him all day.

Byleth felt out of her depth just thinking about it. There wasn’t much time in her former mercenary life for romantic relationships… how was she supposed to handle something like this? What was she _supposed_ to do on days like this? Her father used to talk about bringing her mother flowers so maybe she should have done that?

 _He… wouldn’t be_ this _bothered over something like that, though, would he?_

Sure, she knew he was quite affectionate beneath his cold, professional exterior- adorably, _endearingly_ so- but he was pragmatic as well. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions or spend the day _pouting_ because just she hadn’t wished him a happy Day of Devotion or said- her stomach twisted farther, when was the last time she said she loved him?

Her pace towards where she suspected her husband would be quickened; regardless, she had to rectify this _immediately_.

***

Seteth’s daily rounds were usually good for his general disposition- checking in on ongoing classes, picking up daily reports from the knights, making sure things were generally in order. Sitting in an office or standing ready in the audience chamber alone, all day, was a good way to become trapped in one’s own head, and his anxiety about… well, everything that could go wrong at any moment, most certainly did _not_ need the help.

Today however, he would have very much preferred to shut himself in his office and burry himself in paperwork for all the good being around other people was doing on this day.

It was the Day of Devotion: an innocuous day, for the most part. Young couples, old couples, and family members alike exchanged pleasantries and gifts- there was even a small carnival held just outside the monastery walls, beyond the marketplace entrance primarily comprised of stalls for ring games, fortune tellers, and far, _far_ too many fried foods. Prizes were often small stuffed bears, flowers, chocolates, and other things of such nature.

 _Within two weeks’ time they will undoubtedly be found clogging the bins around the monastery._ His mind supplied his mood with ever the more cloudy thoughts.

Decorations were excitedly thrown up, but after all was said and done, few wanted to put in the effort of cleaning them, and they would remain up until they became a veritable eyesore and were begrudgingly put away. It very much encapsulated Seteth’s feelings about the holiday, and nearly gave him a migraine.

_Frivolous, asinine, inconvenient. A show, a token effort._

And besides all of that, it all only served to remind him of the centuries he endured during which he did not even have the _option_ to celebrate in earnest. Wife six feet under, daughter lost in a seemingly endless sleep, an uncountable number of years of keeping others at arms length in the name of safety which had all but numbed his sense of loneliness. Where were his affections to go but to pile and rot-

Seteth vigorously shook his head, _You cannot allow your thoughts to spiral in such a way._ He admonished himself before forcibly returning his attention to the outside world and as reward for his studiousness, Seteth was immediately assaulted by some sickeningly sweet smell emanating from the classrooms.

He groaned audibly and turned heel towards the source. _Great. Exactly the kind of nonsense I needed._

***

After searching around for where he could have possibly gone, Byleth finally found herself in the hallway leading to Seteth’s office. He was indeed there, stood outside of his office door, but he was not alone: Seteth had his arms crossed against his chest in his characteristic _stern professor_ stance as he stared down a trio of _very_ dejected students.

“I am _well_ aware of what day it is, but you must not allow these _witless_ _frivolities_ to interfere with your studies.” He chided, the bite in his words was perhaps a fair bit stronger than what he had intended, unhelped by his already sour mood.

The students’ heads turned downward, their eyes could have bored holes into the floor as they tried very hard to avoid eye contact with the man who was currently lecturing them.

Seteth sighed deeply, unfolding one of his arms to bring two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He took a moment to collect himself before he continued, “There is no need to look so distraught. You are in no great trouble, simply-” he shook his head at the sight of these teenagers scared stiff from simply being admonished. Sighing, he continued, “If you truly wish to do these things- do so on your own time, and not during academy operation. I do not wish to have to repeat myself of this. _Are we clear_?”

The students nodded overeagerly, relief apparent throughout their expressions and posture.

“Very good. You are dismissed.” Seteth retuned his hands to their place in the small of his back and gave a curt nod to the students as they dashed away from the office.

Before he could turn around and retreat to the quiet solitude- quiet _sanctuary_ \- of his office, Byleth’s voice rang out:

“Seteth?”

It was just one word. Just his name. But he found it all too apparent the change in her voice from its usual flat tones to… _worried_? Anxious?

For one reason or another he felt the need to muster a spot of courage before spinning back around to face her, with a false smile plastered on his face. “Byleth, what brings you here at this hour?” He hoped he didn’t sound _too_ high-strung.

The unimpeded expression of concern on her face suggested he’d failed in that endeavor.

“Can we talk inside?” She tilted her head towards his office door while maintaining what Seteth thought to be _unnecessarily_ strong eye contact as she awaited his answer.

He swallowed. Internally, he ran through all of the possible reasons for this encounter. _Perhaps it simply professional? No, no, even if something was wrong on the workfront it would not show on her face as worry does now. Is she sick? She does not appear to be physically ill. Tch… there is no dancing around it is there? Day of Devotion? I did not think she would be one to care for such things but I suppose she still is still only human, she still has emotions. There are places in Fódlan where this day is specifically_ for _men to appreciate their wives, perhaps that is the version she is familiar with-?_

He was overthinking. Again.

Before Byleth could begin to question his hesitance, he curtly nodded and stepped aside to allow her entrance to his office.

“So… what were those students doing here?” She aimed to make light conversation as he followed her into the office, closing the door shut behind him.

The defensive stance he took while answering didn’t do much to fill her with confidence.

“The three of them thought to bring baked sweets to their class for the Day of Devotion…” he annunciated the holiday as if the name itself tasted rotten- something that _certainly_ did not evade Byleth’s notice- “We have not allowed food to be passed out to class without prior written permission since _Regan_ ’s stunt all those years ago...” He shook his head, recalling the memory of a line of students waiting to be admitted to the infirmary for upset stomachs. “So I do not know what could have possessed them to believe they could get away with it _now._ Truly, this day beings out the most _foolish_ tendencies out of people…”

His thinly-veiled bitterness and insistence on avoiding eye contact only twisted the knot in Byleth’s stomach. She had little relationship experience to go on, only so much expertise to work with, but still, something in her stomach only became more convinced his mood truly was connected to her lack of action. Such a thought lanced her straight through her unbeating heart.

The concern on her usually stony face grew deeper, Seteth indeed took notice but before could move to break this unspoken tension to finally confront her on what was troubling her enough to seek him out in the middle of the day, she jolted forwards- arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him downwards so that her forehead was pressed against his.

“ _I’m sorry._ ” She said softly, brushing her nose against his in an apologetic gesture before moving to pepper his face with light kisses. “I’m sorry, my love. Please, don’t feel bad, please _. Please._ I can’t bear the thought of you being unhappy because of me.”

Seteth stood stiff still while processing exactly what had just happened and what was currently happening. Byleth was… apologizing? She nuzzled into the crook of his neck and he couldn’t quite make out her quiet whispers- she was practically mouthing them- he could only tell they were sorrowful. She was rarely this expressive and he found himself almost drowning in her relative deluge of emotions, his previous disgruntled state seemed miles away.

Unable to watch her continue in such despondence, he brought his hand to one of her wrists to separate them, “Byleth, what on earth could you _possibly_ have to apologize for?” He moved his free hand to her chin and gently guided her to look at him.

Byleth’s eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly, giving away her confusion, “I’d forgotten the date… I thought you were- are you _not_ upset with me?”

“The date? You-” The rest of his sentience died on his tongue as the pieces clicked together- his guess as to the reason behind her visit had been correct but for the wrong reason. He internally cursed the day once more as he leaned down and kissed the still downward-tuned corners of her mouth. “Allow me to make myself perfectly clear: I am _not_ upset with you. May I ask what has made you think so-”

He was cut off by Byleth quickly gesturing towards all of him. His aggravated demeanor from earlier _had_ been plain for the world to see.

“Ah-hem… of course…” he looked down at his feet, suddenly very embarrassed at the poor management of his emotions thus far. “Well then… I believe it would be judicious to inform you that I have never had what one could call an _amicable_ relationship with this day, myself. My irritability stems from that, and that alone.”

As Byleth listened to him explain, she felt relief flood her chest and the knot in her stomach unfurled, knowing for certain she had caused him no grief. However, now there was a new question hanging in the air.

“What do you mean by that?” Her hand rose to trace the side of his face. “The Day of Devotion is a day to celebrate loved ones, I would think _you_ of all people-”

“ _I_ ” he interrupted, frustration returning in the form of a slight tremor in his voice, “do not need a designated day to make known my affections. I am devoted _every day_ \- fully, _completely_ devoted to you. Frankly, I pity the ones who need a _calendar_ to remind them to appreciate the ones they love while they are still able, and I- I-”

All too quickly, Seteth once again found himself losing his grip on his emotional state. Byleth’s soft gestures and loving expression destabilized his control and held him together all the same. Why was he like this _now_? When did Byleth get so close? Had he moved? Or her?

Her strong arms wrapped around him, holding him up, like they were the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

Quietly, an explanation made itself known:

“It is something I could not do for such a very _long_ time.” Seteth’s hands moved to her waist and back, clinging to her as if she was in danger of disappearing at any moment. She turned her head to brush her cheek against his while he continued to pour his heart out: “Finally, I have the chance again, yet what am I doing? Throwing little less than a tantrum in defiance of a past I cannot change…”

Byleth returned his embrace, gently shushing before speaking softly in his ear, “My sweet saint…” she brushed her fingers through his hair and felt him brighten just a little at her term of endearment, “You have so much love to give, don’t you?”

His answer came in the form of a shaky exhale and his grip tightening around her, squeezing her enough to pop her back. Byleth continued slowly stroking his head, leaving long, loving kisses on his cheek and on the side of his head as she listened to his breathing steady out.

“You don’t have to hold it in anymore, not ever.” She tried to impress her sincerity into every syllable, even through her lack of practice. “You have Flayn, you have me. We’re _here_ , we love you.”

Full-body shivers rocked him and her in turn, and after a moment of intimate silence, Seteth raised his head to look her in the eye. “I know.” He pressed a full, lingering kiss to her lips. “I know, and I am sorry to have made you worry for me.”

Byleth quickly pressed her index finger to his lips, “Ah-ah. No more sadness for now, no more regretting. It’s not centuries ago, or even decades ago, it’s _now_ and you are _so_ loved.” She moved her hands to hold the side of his face between them, thumbing away the small rivulet flowing down from his eyes. “So now, I want to make this day something happy for you again.” She paused in consideration. “Ah. Assuming you ever liked it in the first place...?”

“I believe I predate the holiday, actually…” he made an attempt at a joke while trying to get his emotional state back in order and under his control.

“What? Really?” Byleth pulled back a little, her mouth slightly ajar. Sometimes it was very easy to forget just how old her husband was. She knew he had centuries on her, but rarely was it ever actually put into context.

“Mhm. It is about 700 or 800 years old if I recall correctly? Forgive me, I have not ascribed much time to learning about the day…” his eyes had dried and pointed downwards and to the side, embarrassment clear but not as much as his relief.

This shyness Byleth tentatively took as a good sign, at least he could deal with a softer feeling instead of turmoil. Careful not to jostle her husband’s newly pieced together stability, she hazarded a suggestion. “Would you like to go to the fair? That’s what couples do on this day right…?”

 _There are many other things couples like to do on this day,_ His lips quirked upwards quickly before he buried his questionable remark. “You are correct. That is what the carnival is for, after all.”

Byleth has noticed his expression before he’d been able to slip back into his neutral state, “ _What were you thinking?_ ” she leaned forwards on her toes to catch his eyes straight on, not allowing any room to avoid her gaze. “Come on now, tell me.”

“It is nothing, just… well I was thinking of the variety of things couples engaged in on this day and not all of them were as whimsical as going to a fair. Not quite as innocent, if you will.”

“Wow, Seteth I’m impressed.” She pursed her lips and squinted at him, her hands exaggeratedly perched on her hips. “You’ve picked yourself up quite nicely, going from moody to horny in a minute flat-”

“B-Byleth! I said nothing of the sort!” he adjusted his collar conspicuously while she graced him with a rare laugh. Eyes which had darted away from hers, he managed to force them back to take in the sweet sight. “A trip to the carnival sounds like a lovely idea. We had better get a move on if we wish to be able to experience any of it before they shut down after dark…”

He offered his arm to her, which she gladly took.

“Happy Day of Devotion, Byleth. And I truly mean ‘happy’.” he whispered with her head on his shoulder as they walked out the door, and Seteth could practically feel the heaviness evaporate from his shoulders where she lay. He really did mean it.

Her touch as they held hands, her smile when he’d won a prize at a booth, the way she tried so hard to do “date” things, like hand-feed him her festival foods, when she clearly had little experience; it rooted out and cleared away the rotten feeling from that day before- none of it was left by the end of the evening. She had been right: he had so much love to give and now he felt like he had _so much more_.

**Author's Note:**

> Iiits very early in the morning as I post this, so I’m going to sleep. I hope you enjoyed it! I miiight come back later and expand on the carnival date... 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
